


Unfortunately Undercover

by OhBelieveYouMe



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Deception, F/M, Prostitution, case stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-30 06:27:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8522113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhBelieveYouMe/pseuds/OhBelieveYouMe
Summary: It was supposed to be a simple bust: a hop, skip, and jump to go from a prostitute to her pimp. Nothing was ever really simple with SVU, though, and apparently Barba was now part of the team in a way he would have never expected.





	1. Tiger

They had done this before, plenty of times- but this was proving to be frustrating. It should have been a simple bust; Cragen had even managed to make it work before. They weren't even really after Delilah Jones, she was a brush stroke in the larger picture. They were after her pimp.

A horrid, evil man who went by TIGER- what grown man actually chose an animal as a nickname? The kind who would beat his girls with a whip until they had stripes of welts left on their skin. Like a _tiger_. His girls were obedient; his girls did whatever anyone wanted- because they didn't want his stripes. Unfortunately for him, the mark became known; it was pretty easy to pin the three dead bodies found over the last few months on him. If anything, they were his girls, so he was responsible for them.

He had been under surveillance for a while now, and there was one young woman who appeared to be with him particularly often. Delilah. A beautiful blonde who had a rap sheet covering at least the last four years; prostitution, petty theft, drug paraphernalia, etc. All relatively minor crimes, but enough that she had spent some time in jail already. Those were the easiest girls to flip, honestly, they didn't want to go back. Considering how often the two of them were seen together, Benson and Barba had decided she would be their best chance at linking directly to him.

Thinking ahead, the team had decided to mic Carisi and Amaro- one of them should be able to handle this. Goal was easy: proposition, then corner her in the hotel room. It wasn't unique, not very different at all. They had tried to contact her through her backpage ad, but oddly enough they never got a response. Time to take some action.

Amaro approached first, while she slithered against a girlfriend in the middle of the floor. Delilah was easy to spot- she was noticeably attractive, she stood out. Even in the mug shot they had to go off of, she was beautiful, despite having been crying before the picture was taken. Now, on the dance floor, she was Aphrodite among the muses. Amaro was certain he would not have a hard time pretending to be interested in her.

Per protocol, he was careful at first, saddling up behind her and trying to inconspicuously throw some charm while worming himself to her side. The girlfriend noticed him initially, and she squealed at his handsome smirk before twisting Delilah his way. Unfortunately, by the disinterested perk of her eyebrow and mild air of annoyance, he would have had better luck with the first girl than their target.

She was not having it. Defiantly, the blonde actually thumbed her nose at him, and Amaro pouted to try and convince her otherwise. Her friend chastised her rudeness with a bump of her hip, sending Delilah stumbling over to the undercover detective.

"Ayy, let me buy you a drink-" Amaro carefully slid a hand to the small of her back to try and pull her closer, so she could hear the offer over the booming speakers. "I've watched you dancin' all night, you must be thirsty..."

She may not have been ardently fighting against him, but she delicately put her arms in front of her so he couldn't force her against his chest. Attempting niceties, Delilah wagged her head to and fro, trying to politely refuse the offer without speaking.

Unwilling to give up so easily, Amaro ran his hand up and down her spine, trying to appease to her again via begging: "Oh come on, you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen," he bowed and pressed his cheek against her temple so he could funnel his words into her ear despite the music. "Just a drink, maybe a little fun after?"

He was refused again, this time forcefully, with a swift shove of the arms separating them. Amaro wasn't trying to be overwhelming, or particularly rude, so he obediently backed off and raised his hands in the air. The stunning blonde went back to her friend without any sort of explanation, and she waved him away with dancing fingertips held under her chin before turning her back on him. Cold shoulder of denial.

Apparently Amaro wouldn't be the one to work this. "Sorry, Liv," he mumbled to the microphone clipped on the inside of his shirt. Time to make himself scarce, and to hopefully find Carisi- looks like this may be his case.

\---

Rafael had only come to specify boundaries. Even that was intended to mean ‘if needed’.

A case he really didn’t think would end well surprised him; they were able to make a plea rather early on. It was questionable who was more afraid to go to trial, the criminal or his attorney.  Instead of returning to his condo (which was sounding nicer and nicer the longer he sat in this dimly lit club), he ended up checking his cell phone… the damned cell phone would be the death of him, he knew it. It was Olivia, so he couldn’t ignore it. She was asking about entrapment- which meant she was up to something. Instead of having to try and read whether she was sincerely listening or not through text, he had decided to stop by her office. Better to see if she planned on breaking the rules than to wonder.

When will he ever learn that meeting her at her office would be a bad move?

So he had been roped in to accompany the squad in a bust. Easy enough from his standpoint- he was likely the oldest man here. Idly, he tried to keep an eye on wandering Amaro and Carisi, watching as they circled the target like a shark. It was almost like a dance or ballet, both had been trying to fall into her line of sight, but only Amaro had approached so far. He had waited until she was dancing with another girl instead of a man, blood in the water. Despite hoping they’d succeed, hopefully sooner than later, Rafael couldn’t stifle his laughter when Amaro was snubbed. About time the young buck gets an ego check. Time for another bourbon.

Rafael was two drinks in, and nothing seemed to be happening. He wondered if this was a mistake, if he stood out like a sore thumb in his nice suit amongst all the kids running around under the disco lights….

Imagine his surprise when a young woman boldly placed a little green clutch by his arm. At first, he was solely focused on the bag- the sequins shone up at him and demanded attention. Next were the blood red nails, placed atop the edge of the bar so she could shamelessly rock herself up and attract the eyes of the bartender. He wasted no time. "Oh hey Honey!" She cheered with a hint of surprise, as if she hadn't known she'd be helped so soon. "I just need a glass of wine, somethin' sweet, like me."

He smirked at the comment while still staring down, which was how he noticed when one of those red painted fingertips tapped curiously at the bottom of his glass.

"Can I get you another, Sugar?" The nickname flowed off her tongue; he barely even heard the ending. Rafael wasn't quite certain how he felt about the reference, but who would refuse a free drink? Not him.

"You know what, sure-" Rafael chuckled and nodded, finishing the rest of his glass. At least he wasn’t ‘Honey’. "Bourbon, if you don't mind."

"You heard him, right Honey?" The bartender was already off preparing the drinks when she asked, but he nodded her way anyway. With the confirmation in mind, she plopped herself onto the stool so she could sit instead of dangle from the bar anymore.

Curious about his benevolent new bar buddy, he finally took a moment to catch her stare, and he thought he'd fall off his stool. It was her, that Delilah girl, he'd recognize her anywhere- her photograph had been posted on the squad room's board for at least a week now. "Thank you," he finally remarked, and held a hand out for shaking. "I appreciate it."

She eagerly took his offered hand in both of her own, and smiled ear to ear while repetitiously shaking the bundle of fingers and fists. This did not seem to be the same girl who bounced off of Amaro a handful of minutes ago, she seemed much… sweeter? "Oh of course, drinks taste better with conversation." After she let go, her eyes were back to watch the man behind the counter collect their drinks.

Carefully, Barba looked knowingly towards where Olivia sat. He hoped his worried stare displayed exactly what he was thinking (HELP), but she simply nodded- over, and over, and over (DO IT). Subtly, he tried to wag a quick denial (NO), but her nodding never ceased (YES).

The girl cooed and complimented the bartender's ‘sweet speed’ before sliding his gift in front of him. Rafael cooly raised his gaze back to hers- she really was beautiful, more so dolled up than she was in the mugshot. "So, what's your name?” She asked kindly, and then poked at his tie to explain her next question, “what do you do?"

His eyes squint- was she toying with him? Rafael has been in the news, on TV, in the papers. Why couldn't she have drifted to one of the detectives with plugs in their ears, he had no idea how to react to this?

The plan. He bought a moment to think by taking a sip of his bourbon, and thankfully she mirrored the deed with her wine. Amaro or Carisi were going to talk to her, gain confidence, proposition, then get her to a hotel room so they could arrest her. She wasn't the suspect they really wanted, they wanted her pimp- and girls had a way of giving up their abusers when the threat of jail came up.

"Nick," he lied brazenly, not even considering that she may call his bluff. If anything, though, he could claim he didn't want to use his real identity- wouldn't that be something a john would do? She didn't even flinch, he hoped she believed him. He definitely wasn't trained to be undercover.

Her red lipstick stained the edge of her wine glass, "I'm Delilah," She replied briskly, but let the second half of her question fade without further pushing. "What brings a handsome man like you to a club like this? It's a little loud to just sit at the bar..."

Rafael laughed as he looked back at the dance floor; this definitely isn't the type of place he'd go to on his own accord. Maybe that was why she didn't recognize him- the crowd here was notably young. He already knew she was at least eight years younger than him; he tried to recall the last two digits in her date of birth. "I'm a people watcher," he suggested lightly. "Seems like it pays off sometimes." He punctuated the statement with a wink.

The bar was known for turning a blind eye to prostitution, it was unlikely very many of the patrons were unaware. Was he being too subtle? How subtle does one have to be when trying to set up a session? He was in over his head. Delilah laughed and twisted so the stool turned, until her knees knocked into his leg. This may be easier than he thought. "I knew you'd be funny," she wiggled her fingers in the air. "Is that all you do- watch? I don't think I've seen you on the floor," as he had done, she winked, and he could feel a blush creep to his cheeks. "I'd have noticed you."

Okay, he wasn't sure where to go from here. Rafael wasn't the kind of man to drag a young woman to somewhere everyone was bumping and grinding instead of actually dancing. He didn't know if he could do it. Cautiously, he shot a glance back at Olivia, who was inconspicuously speaking into her cell phone. "How can you notice anyone with all the lights in this place? You must have danced with everyone-"

"I noticed you, didn't I?" Delilah wilted and pouted, unlike her prior bubbly spirit. For a split second, Rafael actually considered that she was being sincere. His brows furrowed, and he looked back into his dark drink, until a heavy hand slapped at his back.

"Hey buddy," Thank God for Carisi, he couldn't ever recall a moment in time he had ever been more thankful for him to show up. Sweet Savior Sonny. Rafael gladly smirked back, but his new friend appeared disappointed. "And hello to you, you are stunning," Carisi propped himself up against the bar, and tried to intervene in the awkward interaction. It was too painful for him to watch.

"Oh, Hello," Delilah didn't at all sound as excited to see Sonny as she had been to meet Rafael. He couldn't help but feel a little special since she also didn't offer to buy him a drink. Politely, she held a hand out for introductions, "I'm Delilah, who are you?"

Sonny eagerly took her hand in his, and handsomely placed a kiss on her knuckles. Her lip twitched, and Rafael had to take a hefty chug of his bourbon to keep from laughing. "Nicholas," he advised brightly, but cocked his head to the side when she snatched her fingers away.

"You're both named Nick?" She questioned suspiciously. Rafael's brows jumped and he looked expectantly up at Carisi, who was subtly listening for some assistance. He loathed him for having Olivia in his ear, the lucky man.

"I'm Nicholas, he's Nick." Carisi jokingly bounced his shoulder against Rafael, who obediently nodded along in agreeance. "Birds of a feather, you know?"

Delilah decided not to question it any further, some people were odd. "I suppose it is a popular name," she suggested simply, and took a sip that lasted a little longer than a typical drink of wine. Worried about losing her, Rafael tried to engage once more. After all, she had approached him, maybe he could reel her back in.

"Too bad 'Delilah' isn't more popular," he spoke smartly, and tried not to smile too broadly when the smirk came back to her face. "It's definitely lovely," he recalled the story of Samson, and thought he'd actually try to push for conversation. Having Carisi there boosted his bravado. "Significant and strong, pretty sure it means 'she who weakens'."

She ran her fingertip thoughtfully along the edge of her glass while crossing her legs, a bare knee still pressed against the pants of his suit. It appeared appropriate. "Mmm, biblical-" her voice hitched in her throat; apparently she knew the origin already. "Does that mean I'll have to try three times to get you to dance with me?" Delilah's delightful smile came back in full force- Carisi's eyebrows wriggled in confusion. A quick stare to the right and he noticed Amaro watching on with equal bewilderment. What was this Twilight Zone? "Because I definitely will, I've got all night- NicK," Purposely, she emphasized the 'click' to end his name short, and slithered her stare towards ‘Nicholas’ to make sure she was clear.

Carisi easily took the hint. "Nah, gentlemen don't make ladies repeat themselves," he dropped his hands on the ADA's shoulders for a moment, and shook him a bit. That was a cue, even Rafael understood it. "Go dance, Nick, stop bein' a party pooper."

"Yea Nick," Delilah took the support gladly, and hopped off of her bar stool to tug at Rafael's sleeve. Tauntingly, she wriggled her hips, and plumped her crimson lips into a firm pout. Amateur Undercover or not- how on Earth was Rafael supposed to deny her? She was undeniably dazzling, there was no way he'd have the opportunity to go dance with such a lovely younger woman again.

She's a prostitute, he reminded himself before the flattery could hit his spine. She's a prostitute and she wants work. If she's trying this hard for his attention; he decided there was a chance he was actually getting somewhere. Look at him, Rafael Barba, ADA and Undercover John. After finishing off his drink in a sharp sip, he rolled his eyes and teasingly drug his feet until he stood alongside her.

"Fine, fine, fine-" He conceded, it wouldn't take more than two times for her to convince him. Carisi reassuringly pat at his shoulder before hopping onto the barstool he was previously sat at. This was sure to be interesting, even if it wasn't successful. Carisi wanted to watch.

Darling Delilag shamelessly took his hands in her own, and twisted before placing them on her green velvet dress just atop the curve of her hips. It felt so wrong, this was not Rafael's forte- but apparently he was to be Nick, not himself. So he tried his best not to stare at her form as she sashayed their way onto the dance floor with him in tow, and furthered the attempt by looking longingly back at Olivia.

Of course, Benson was paying close attention- and to his immense displeasure, she was not doing a very good job of hiding her raucous laughter while watching the scene unfold. Rafael Barba, spending time at a bar with a prostitute, about to go dance with wriggling twenty to thirty year olds... she couldn't have paid for better entertainment. He snarled while the younger woman faced away, and tried again to wag out a sharp begging with his head (HELP). Instead of the nod, he received a similar shake of denial (NO).

Dear God, this was sure to be fascinating.


	2. Cherries

This was not at all what Rafael Barba would have ever considered ‘dancing’. Even when he was younger, he really thought there should be more than just bumping into each other- it was basically vertical and socially appropriate (depending who you asked) foreplay. What happened to real dancing, where it was a connection instead of an intrusion of your personal safety zone?

“You look sooooo uncomfortable,” Delilah taunted, and he thought he saw a bit of sympathy sparkling in her eyes. Apparently she was taking mercy on him- he had seen her dancing with her friends earlier in the evening. She was being undoubtedly modest with her moves while he tried to not look too out of place. Apparently he was failing.

“It was Nicholas’s idea to come here,” he tried to cast blame on the traitor who abandoned him, damn Carisi. “I usually prefer more intimate circles,” did that make sense? Rafael bit the inside of his lip, hoping that didn’t sound too pretentious.

She slithered up against him and he flinched, tensing as the velvet of her dress slid along his palms. Her hands stacked atop his shoulder, and she utilized the extra inches from her heels to reach his ear. “I like intimate circles, too.” Her chin joined her hands, and Rafael twist the best he could to see her pouting at him.

Rafael considered in as minimal time as possible: he needed her to proposition. Was that enough? What would he have said if a detective had brought him that on tape? Of course, the sting would move along quicker if he inched that way, tried to convince her to be more open about it. He’d rather have a foolproof case, though, even if his suspect was as delightful as Delilah was. “What kind of intimate circles are you privy to?”

“Oh Sugar,” She giggled, but oh that pet name- he thought he felt his knees go weak. Where did that lilac scent come from? Was it her hair, her wrists? It was lovely, and Rafael found himself easily keeping his face close in hopes of discovering more of it. “I’d love to go somewhere more private, if that’s what you had in mind…” She pressed her face to his shoulder, and one of her hands shifted to glide along his chest.

With her watching her own hand travel along his tie, Rafael took the opportunity to look towards where Olivia sat- in all her sadistic, voyeuristic glory. She was certainly enjoying this far too much. Knowing she couldn’t hear their conversation, he gave a quick nod. The switch from his wags of denial to assertion made her eyebrows rise. He noticed her talking into her cell phone again, so he decided to finally press his luck.

Something he never thought he’d ask of himself: What would Nick do?

“Well,” Rafael had to close his eyes as he went along, it felt so wrong- but he ran his hand delicately up her spine and shifted so they stood close enough to touch. Only layers of clothing between them, and her curious fingers toying with the buttons of his shirt made him wonder how long she intended on letting the barrier exist. “I’ve got a hotel room, next door,” he bowed his chin, and pressed his cheek up against hers so he knew she could hear him. “Just gotta get the key from Nicholas.”

That million dollar smile she shot him spoke volumes, and he had the oddest urge to kiss those crimson lips. Wow, he needed some air, or water- and a minute to think. “What’re you waiting for then, Sugar?”

**Hook,** “Meet me back at the bar?” **Line,** “Five minutes?”

Delilah moved too quickly for him to keep up, and swiftly shifted to dangle before him with fingers laced smartly behind his neck. She used her hold to gather herself closer, and pressed those plumped lips against his before he could even consider stopping her. Rafael shuddered, he wasn’t sure why precisely- but without even thinking, one of his hands went from her dress to her hair. Maybe he shouldn’t be so encouraging, but he’d be damned if he missed this opportunity; darling Delilah tasted like cherries, and her tongue running along his bottom lip felt like electricity. Her back arched just so slightly, just enough for her belly to press softly against his own.

“Don’t keep me waiting too long,” she begged lightheartedly against his mouth. Rafael nodded obediently, eyes still shut tight so he wouldn’t have to face his misdeed.

**Sinker.**

And she was off, sauntering away as quickly as she had initially arrived alongside him at the bar. She fluffed her hair while she walked, and disappeared amongst the crowd. He had no idea where she went, but he assumed she’d be where he asked her to meet him.

Thankfully, Carisi had been keeping a close eye, and he gave a firm shove at Rafael’s shoulders to try and inconspicuously get him to travel to the men’s room. “C'Mon, NICK,” he laughed as he used the name, and the ADA rolled his eyes.

—

Once in the restroom, Carisi locked the door so they wouldn’t be interrupted. “How the Hell did you manage that, Counsellor?” He pointed at Rafael’s tinted lips, stained red from the color Suspect Jones wore. “Look at you, play boy.”

“What do I do?” He ignored the detective’s jokes and barged past, turning on the sink to get the cool water flowing. “I’m in over my head, Carisi, I don’t know what I’m supposed to-”

“Well, you’re already in,” Carisi was stripping off his shirt, earning him a curiously raised eyebrow from his colleague at the sink. “Benson said to keep it up, you got rapport now-”

Rafael splashed the liquid on his face, and ran his thumbs over his lips to try and rid the red color from them. “Well we’re supposed to meet at the hotel, I told her I had to get a key from you-” his stare went back to the now half-clothed detective, and his jaw fell when he went to undo his jeans. “Carisi, what the Hell are you doing?”

Time for his eyes to roll, it was frustrating to realize how little Barba apparently knew about undercover work. And HE was who they had to please when pulling the investigations? “I’m getting you mic’d, now cooperate-” he worked to undo the tape holding the wires to his chest. “Take your shit off.”

Knowing better than to protest, Rafael immediately obliged, and tossed the articles of clothing carefully over a bathroom stall… he didn’t want to put his nice suit jacket on the disgusting bathroom floor, unlike Carisi who couldn’t care less. Explains plenty.

“Now, you gotta let her proposition it-”

“Done,” Rafael figured there was plenty of evidence for that. She had an ad on BackPage, she had suggested going somewhere more private. “I know what I’m doing in terms of making a case, Carisi-” He flinched when Sonny purposely pinched the skin on his chest with poorly placed tape. Maybe he deserved that. “I’d love to get one of those earphones…”

“Nah,” Carisi knowingly shook his head, face serious, “she’s all over you, and she’d notice it.” Rafael supposed that made sense. “We’re gonna be right behind you though, if anything goes wrong then you just say the code word.”

Code word? Hold on- **code word**? He didn’t know about this? “Wh- What’s the code word?” His eyes grew wide, desperate, even though Carisi was now tossing his clothes back for him to put on.

Too good to pass up. A perplexed stare was shot his way. “You don’t know the code word?” Carisi was trying so, so hard not to smile- this was probably the most fun he had ever had on a sting operation. If only he could get this on film, or a photograph of ADA Rafael Barba with a prostitute dangling from his neck. “Man, I dunno if I’m supposed to say-”

Rafael glared, and rapidly tucked his shirt into his pants before shrugging his suit jacket on over his shoulders. “Carisi, what’s the damn code word?”

There wasn’t a code word. Not yet, at least, but now was a good time to make one. “Let’s go with… _violet_.” He heard Olivia chastise him from the earpiece, and leaned down so he spoke into the microphone now attached to Rafael’s chest: “Violet’s a great code word, what do you mean?”

“OLIVIA-” Realizing he was talking to the Benson, Rafael bent his chin so it nearly hit his own sternum. “Olivia, this is ridiculous, please don’t let this go bad-”

“She said to stop whining,” Carisi prodded at the ADA’s forehead, forcing him to raise his face. “And that she can hear you just fine, stop yelling into the mic.” He gave the undercover-amateur a solid once-over, critically examining him now that he was dressed. The wire appeared secure, and he had tried his best to keep it in inconspicuous places, hidden beneath the layers he always wore. It was easy when it took half a closet to make one suit come together. “Just don’t let her get your shirt opened.”

“I’m not stupid,” Rafael grunted, and turned to look at himself in the mirror again. He didn’t look any different, but he definitely felt off. Was it knowing every word he’d say would be noted, was it anticipation for his next steps? He noticed Carisi chuckling to himself, while pressing the little speaker deeper into his ear. “What did she say?”

“Nothin’, Counsellor,” The detective unlocked the bathroom door and excused himself from the small quarters, leaving poor Rafael alone with his frazzled nerves and confusion.

You’ve got this, he mentally told himself while straightening his spine. You’ve got this, he reminded himself while fixing his disheveled hair. You’ve got this, he assured himself while standing tall and trying on a confident smile.

Rafael Barba was used to utilizing coercion and white lies to get what he needed.

Too bad he had so much trouble doing it to himself.

—

Delilah had been exactly where he suggested, with her back against the bar’s edge and elbows propped up on the counter top. From somewhere, she had procured what looked to be a faux fur shrug- ready to go, and prepared for the night air. A younger man, one much closer to her age, was standing at her side and leaned in close to her ear. Her pursed lips and downcast gaze gave it away; he blessed himself for knowing so much about body language: she looked horribly annoyed.

Afraid he may have kept her waiting too long, his walk slowed, until she appeared to notice him approaching. Rudely, she bounced off the bar and gladly left the boy still chattering while she chose to meander over to him. “Nick, I thought you left without me,” she teased, and pressed herself up against his arm. Was it bad that he actually felt flattered?

“How could anyone leave without you?” That wasn’t quite an undercover comment, he truly meant it. His sweet words were rewarded with another taste of those cherry lips, and a blush rose to his cheeks when she turned his face towards her- he wondered if she could feel the heat he did under her fingertips.

It was a little difficult to think, but she seemed to like kissing him. Who was he to deny her? Delicately, their little trek began, and he respectfully slid his left arm around her waist to keep her close. How does a woman nearly perform a grapevine in stilettos? Rafael wasn’t sure (it should be a sport), but Delilah appeared damned determined to achieve the dance; peppering his jaw line with her silky smooches as he made valid attempts to remain a gentleman.

Apparently their silence wasn’t good enough for her; “I’ve got a funny,” she giggled before gifting him the beginning of her joke, this should be great- “The past, the present, and the future walk into a bar…”

Rafael couldn’t help himself, he laughed out loud into the dark evening, where was she going with this? “How’d that go?”

What if someone saw him? Tripping over his own feet and practically glued under the lips of a girl notably younger, what would they think? Would they be inclined to ask about it, to wonder what he was up to? Luckily, New York was a large city, and most people they passed didn’t give them a second glance.

He had never been so thankful for New Yorkers and their immense apathy.

She smiled against his cheek, before dropping the punch line: “It was tense…”

—

They had gotten this far, and he was proud. Proud of not stumbling over her shoes, proud of not letting her curious hands slink their way into his shirt, proud of remembering to respond to ‘Nick’ even when her warm breath flooded his mind as she whispered it into his ear. He was doing great; he was convinced, besides the fact that he wasn’t quite sure this could pass as a sting.

If it had been a different detective, he’d be badgering them. Stop wasting time, stop fawning over her- but now he understood why they hated having him in his ear. It was damned hard not to react to Delilah. Her presence demanded attention, and having her eyes on him made Rafael feel damn near glamorous.

It was flattering. That must be her game.

Up, up in the elevator- she giggled and hummed along to the classical music pouring in through the speakers above them. Rafael tapped out the familiar tune with his fingertips, on the back of her hand. Both sets of eyes locked for a mere moment in a dawning of realization, before the chime for the third floor rang.

Why did it drive him crazy that she recognized Mozart’s Oboe Concerto?  
Why did the look in her eye make him think the craze was reciprocal?

They tumbled out into the hallway, and he tried to resist the urge to ask her where she first heard Mozart. His thoughts wandered back to the grammar joke she had played off earlier- this girl must be brighter than he had given her credit for initially. All concerns were tossed to the wayside when he was cornered against the wall by the room he had told her they were searching for, for another delicious Delilah kiss. He’d take ‘em all.

“Do you have a condom?” She mumbled against his lips. The question sent a cold chill down his spine and sensibilities, but the little lawyer on his shoulder screamed from the background: **intent**. Intent!

“Mhmm,” he fumbled haplessly, trying his best to balance her weight and retrieve the key card from his pocket. She was all over him, and while he’d love to take credit for returning the advances- most of his hands on her were carefully placed in worries she was going to fall.

She wasn’t drunk, at least not overly so- her words didn’t slur and her steps weren’t hazardous. But the way she pressed herself into his side, slithered her hands inside of his suit jacket, left red kisses on his collar and throat: she was acting like a college girl who wanted a screw.

Maybe that’s what the young folks were into lately.

So far, Rafael figured he’d done pretty well. He got her to the hotel, they were currently stumbling through the door he managed to open (finally), and she had proven she intended to sleep with him. Only one more pesky matter to approach before the arrest. How does one bridge that gap, though?

“How much should I be expecting, Doll?” He whispered it, while she was planting kisses on the underside of his chin and he had a hand on her back, two fingers slid in the gaps between broad black buttons. She must have not heard him; considering how she used the little power she had to back him up until he had no choice other than to sit on the bed.

“What?” Okay, so she hadn’t heard him, but he wondered how loudly he really wanted to ask it as she climbed up to straddle his lap. This really seemed to be a poor business model, he thought in the recesses of his brain- shouldn’t you negotiate a price before delivering services? That’s how most every other transaction he’d ever been involved in took place, but then again, he had never propositioned a prostitute before.

His only choice was to try and keep her from falling, so a hand went to her lower back and the other was positioned delicately up her revealed thigh. Something soft slid under his fingertips, and he realized too soon that it was a welt. Curiosity got the best of him, and he traced the bubbling line until he knew where it began and ended; from under her buttocks to her outer thigh. A _tiger_ stripe. She jumped, he worried he hurt her, so he quit fingering the wound.

“How much, honey?” Rafael spoke louder, and snatched up her hands. She had been going to undo the buttons on his shirt- if she got too far down, she’d see the wire.

Something changed. Her smile drooped, and her eyes went wet. Delilah pulled to retrieve her hands from him, and he let her have them; an act of benevolence he’d soon regret. Harshly, she left a stinging slap on his face, and Rafael howled out of surprise. She jumped backwards, off of her precariously perched position on his lap, and scowled at him. “You think I’m a fucking hooker?”

Well, yes. Yes he definitely did think she was a hooker. He’d have used the term ‘sex worker’, but that wasn’t really important right now. Not the moment to be politically correct.

Her howling didn’t help his recovery; “You’re horrible, Nick!” Who was Nick? Ohh yea, he was Nick. Damn, he really wasn’t good at this. “You’re a sick old man-”

“Okay, that’s **rude** -” Rafael was starting to recover from the slap, and pointed her way with his finger. “You didn’t think I was an old man three minutes ago?” He groaned and glowered at the bewildered expression on her face. There’s no way this is the worst john experience she’s had. “Why else would you come to a hotel room with me?”

Her jaw dropped, and he watched as she physically wilted. Without any other explanation, she twisted to head out into the hallway. It almost hurt to see her walk away without tugging on his tie or clinging to his arm.

Code word- “ **Violet**!” Rafael said it much louder than his mind intended him to, and he thought he could hear the stomps of shoes in the distance. Maybe it was just because he knew they were there, but Delilah didn’t seem to notice them as she began to cry.

“My name’s Delilah,” she whined, and genuine guilt fell over him like a blanket. That wasn’t what he meant, and with the way she lit up a room- she should never feel forgettable. He likely wouldn’t be able to drop that name from his mind for a long time now.

“I know that-“ He shifted in his seat to try and stop her, but she twist at the door knob, obviously offended despite the misunderstanding.

Her escape was thwarted, however, when she was greeted by Olivia the second the door opened.

No time to waste, she didn’t want a scene. Not more of one than Barba already caused. “Delilah Jones, you’re under arrest-” Benson began as coolly as she always did, and Amaro quickly approached to spin the confused girl around. Delilah recognized him immediately, as the man who had tried to approach her earlier at the club, and went sickeningly pale. Even the pink fell from her cheeks, Rafael had to look away.

“Badge,” She demanded smartly, jumping to the side before he could handcuff her. Amaro diligently obliged her, and pulled it out. Leaning forward, Delilah read the words- and if looks could cool, Rafael would have been dead on the spot and her prostitution charge would have turned into homicide. “A **third** Nick!?”

Amaro laughed aloud and shook his head. “Oh no, Honey- I’m the One and Only,” he continued chuckling, and carefully used a hold on her arm to spin her around once more. The metal clinked around her thin wrists, and those blue eyes that had had him hypnotized remained on the ADA still sitting on the bed.

She fought only once, tugging gruffly at the cuffs to try and pull herself out of Amaro’s grip and closer to the bed she had been on not ten minutes earlier. Rafael shook his head violently in protest, rising to his feet and holding an arm out to try and convince her to stop the struggle. “Delilah, that’s resisting arrest, please don’t do that-” The advice earned him an obvious sneer from Olivia.

“Who are you?” Delilah literally spat at his shoes, and he rolled his eyes. Immature, and crude. This wasn’t going well. “At least tell me your name,” she managed through her tears, and watching her mascara run to her cheeks was worse than looking into the sun. “I thought you were nice-” her lower lip trembled, and his heart hit the floor. She’d be drug off to the squad room, interrogated. She’d be seeing him eventually and he’d have his real job to do. He wouldn’t be a secret for long, anyways.

Cold. Time to separate. “Miss Jones,” the professional tone he took caused her jaw to fall open. “My name is Rafael Barba,” he feigned apathy the best he could, and raised his chin while going to straighten his suit jacket; “I’m going to be the ADA working your case.” He excused himself from her stare by studiously going to refix the buttons she had been working on. “I sincerely suggest you cooperate with the officers.”

She’d gladly take the advice to heart, and softened in the true Nick’s grip. “I didn’t accept any money,” her whimpering started, and Rafael had to cast down his gaze so he wouldn’t react. The worst part is, she was right. He must have sounded like an awful man, but there had to be a misunderstanding buried somewhere in this failure. “And I didn’t tell you my last name.”

“We already knew it,” Olivia answered for him, and purposefully put herself between the ADA and their newest arrestee. She turned Delilah away with a hand on her back, and she was brought out of the room with her and Amaro in tow. “Please go this way, miss-“

He watched halfheartedly as she was escorted away, and swallowed the subtle ache in his chest.

And suddenly, he had the oddest craving for **cherries**.


End file.
